Well, it’s that time of year again.
The season where a soft glow of twinkling lights decorates the night sky. Around every corner there’s a display of reindeer pulling Santa’s sleigh, Christmas trees lining the roads, and smiling faces — young and old —gathering in town squares, wrapped in laughter and cheer.
It’s the only time of year where Hallmark movies are widely accepted, different styles of hot chocolate recipes flood our social media feeds,and everything just feels a little bit more magical — and a little more celebrated.
Yep! You guessed it.
Christmas!
And while the season sparkles on the surface, it has a way of stirring up everything underneath, too.
“Christmas has always felt like a strange balancing act — beautiful on the outside, quietly demanding underneath.”
Christmas has always felt like a strange balancing act for me– beautiful and comforting on the outside, but quietly demanding beneath it all.
There’s this expectation to feel joyful, grateful, festive… even when you are physically tired, your mind feels scrambled, and life doesn’t seem to get the slow-pace memo, just because the calendar says so–even in my small town.
And some years, I find myself dead center of that contrast–grateful for the comfort of the glow, but still carrying an unspoken weight beneath it all.
Where the Glow Meets the Weight
Lately, the contrast has been showing up in small but meaningful ways.
The lights around town bring a smile to my face and still gives me a warm fuzzy feeling–just like in my childhood.
The town shops are decorated with warm lights that draw you in and familiar songs drift over typically silent streets. From the outside everything has that festive feeling–familiar, even comforting.
But my reality hasn’t slowed to match.
Work is still fast paced. Energy feels finite. And while the season invites rest and reflection, life continues to demand productivity, attention, and movement. Some days, it feels as if I should be a softer version of myself than I truly have to offer.
At home, my cats are blissfully unaware–stretched out in front of the fireplace snoozing away without a care and letting out mildly inconvenient huffs whenever I disturb their chosen spots.
Watching them just be so unapologetically peaceful feels like a gentle reminder– one I clearly need more than I realize.
“Watching them rest without apology feels like a lesson I’m still learning”
And while I do enjoy going to the Christmas Market and all the celebrations, I find myself leaning more towards quiet nights with a Christmas movie and a steaming cup of coco with my mom and cats.
Less noise. Fewer plans. More moments where nothing needs my attention and I can just absorb the moment.
An empty mug of hot coco, my cats curled around me, and lights softly reflecting off the windows with tiny snowflakes falling outside demanding nothing, just existing.
It sounds like I don’t love this season–I absolutely love this season. But the older I become the more I realize that just because I love it, doesn’t mean I have to force myself to feel certain ways.
Sometimes it’s simply acknowledging what’s underneath the glow and letting myself welcome that experience.
The Quiet Pressure of the Season
There’s a subtle pressure that comes around this time of year– not the kind that announces itself, but hangs quietly in the background.
You know theone. The pressure to be cheerful–not the forced kind that makes people uncomfortable, but the softer version. The expectation to be present, fully in festive mode…even when your tank is hovering somewhere around empty.
I notice it in small moments – feeling guilty for wanting to stay in to sit by the fire. Letting the soft Christmas music play in the background while the soft glow of my tree lights the room.
The season promotes slowing down, but somehow still expects more: more plans, more connection, more effort.
“The season encourages slowing down, but somehow still expects more.”
At home, the cats are entirely unaffected by any of this. They nap through the day, stretch when they wake and decide to climb in the Christmas tree without apology. They don’t rush joy–and certainly don’t perform it either.
They simply exist–and somehow, that feels like validation.
So I’m still learning how to give myself that same grace–even if it’s a constant battle.
Choosing Softness, On Purpose
Honestly, the whole letting go of expectations can be a challenge at times.
I’m pretty good at not having any expectations but other times, I carry them around. Quietly– unspoken rules about how I should be feeling, what I should be doing, or how this season should look.
This year though? I’m doing things a little differently.
I’m choosing softness intentionally. Not to avoid the responsibility, but as a way to protect my energy, health and mental status.
I’m learning rest isn’t earned and joy doesn’t need a performance to be valid.
My mom, on the other hand, has always loved this season to the fullest extent.
Every year she turns the house into this magical winter wonderland–lights everywhere, decorations layered with care, each room blends together in a way you can feel her warm intentions.
It’s her favorite time of year, and seeing how she lights ups during December with overflowing joy always stays with me.
Lately, that contrast has been comforting. It’s a reminder that there’s no single RIGHT way to hold this season–celebration can be big and bright, or quiet and gentle, that both can exist without overpowering each other.
Softness, for me, looks like fewer obligations and more space. Saying no without needing to overexplain or defend. Letting some things be good enough instead of perfect.
Simply just letting the season unfold without trying to nitpick and direct every feeling it brings.
I’m realizing that choosing softness doesn’t mean I care less– I think it means I’m learning to listen more closely to what I actually want and need.
Holding What Feels True
As the season moves forward, I’m trying to let go of the idea that Christmas has to look or feel a certain way to be meaningful.
I’m learning that it can be gentle without being empty, quiet without being lonely.
Some days, that means choosing rest over traditions. Other days, it means embracing the glow when it feels good and stepping away when it doesn’t.
I’m allowing myself to move through this season with more honesty–even when it is messy or unfinished.
There’s this liberating comfort in knowing that I don’t have to resolve every feeling, problem, or crisis before the year ends.
That it’s okay to carry my mixed emotion beside my moments of warmth. Both are different sides of the same coin.
For now, clutching onto what feels true; softer expectations, quieter evenings, and the permission to move within my own comfort– wherever this season takes me.
And that’s enough.
If this season feels heavy for you too, I hope you can find moments of softness where you can–even the tiniest ones. And if it feels light, I hope you hold onto that warmth just as gently.
-Quill
